


MULTIFANDOM QUOTE PROMPTS

by bakrstreetboys



Category: Gotham - Fandom, Marvel, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Quote prompts, a lil kinky, kinda smut, mostly gay, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakrstreetboys/pseuds/bakrstreetboys
Summary: Just a load of short fanfics based on the quotes in the first chapter, le ace comments with any requests and enjoy reading. (i don't own any characters mentioned etc)





	1. Chapter 1

1) what if i say no?  
2) get out   
3) i dreamed of you last night   
4) i don't know if you've noticed... but we're in a party   
5) you can dance with me... if you want   
6) don't look!!!  
7) i think people hug at this point  
8) i'll take you   
9) why didn't you call me   
10) would you stop that?  
11) i loved you   
12) i can't believe i married you   
13) don't say that  
14) i'll take the couch   
15) you lied to me!  
16) maybe you didn't love me after all   
17) take my hand   
18) so... you think i'm hot?  
19) p1: what are you doing? p2: hiding   
20) take your shirt off!   
21) i think we should stop seeing eachother  
22) you have a picture of me? on your fridge?  
23) do i know you?  
24) are you wearing lace underwear?  
25) did i just say that?  
26) breathe, okay? just breathe   
27) stand behind me   
28) i bet my life on it   
29) tell me a secret   
30) don't pretend with me!  
31) i saw you, right there  
32) i... i just wanted to say that i, uh, missed you  
33) i'm not lying   
34) you look okay... wait! i mean...  
35) i knew i'd find you here   
36) you still remember?  
37) i guess i just wanted to know if you missed me   
38) all i needed was a friend   
39) i like your new place   
40) you left!  
41) do you know any jokes?  
42) i'm not supposed to be here  
43) do i wanna know?  
44) take me home... please  
45) you have pretty hands   
46) i got you, it's okay. it's okay   
47) we can leave, you know   
48) oh my god, your eyes!!  
49) i don't want to see you anymore   
50) i was trying to protect you


	2. 24) are you wearing lace underwear? JOHNLOCK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the title basically explains it, mild smut in this one, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys like it! this was requested by @bakerstreetboiz on instagram :)

John sat uncomfortably in the moving helicopter, black headphones too tight around his head, and a foreboding sense of confusion causing his chest to constrict under his jumper.   
Bloody Sherlock. Nothing could ever be 'normal', or 'calm'. Everything was unexpected and reckless. John smiled - that's exactly how he needed it to be.   
It wasn't the biggest shock he'd ever received when Buckingham Palace came into sight, and before long, the helicopter had landed and John was being escorted by two bodyguards, each twice the size of him, and with little to no facial expression whatsoever.   
Almost afraid to speak in the presence of the burly pair, the doctor waited until they'd left to express his discombobulation to Sherlock. And he didn't mean the location.  
'Sherlock...'  
Sherlock looked up, a knowing smirk on his face that made John smile - the detective was happy today.   
'Are you wearing anything under that sheet?'   
Typical wear for around the flat, but maybe not so for the home of the royal family. John was glad their relationship (platonic, unfortunately) was at the point were Sherlock felt comfortable like this around him.  
'Maybe.'   
Sherlock was very nervous, even if he was doing a very very good job at hiding it. He reevaluated his plans, and decided that this really wasn't the time to tell John. But this was them, nothing was ever straightforward, and he'd always planned to tell him on a case anyway. He knew he had to act quickly, as his majesty (also known as Mycroft), and another man (presumably his client - no, someone representing his client. Probably a young person, a woman, of close relation to the man. Meaning the subject was too delicate for her herself to come, meaning important case to the family, which happened to be the royal family, which meant his brother would probably offer him another knighthood. Which he would certainly turn down.) whom he had seen earlier would be arriving soon.  
'What are you wearing then?'  
Sherlock made a show of looking down under his sheet, and looked up again with a face of innocence, and shrugged.  
'Go on, tell me.'   
Sherlocks face remained one of stony features, a wall in front of a breaking dam, trying desperately to keep its contents inside.   
'Are you wearing lace underwear?' Johns voice took a mocking tone, and he chuckled after his joke, trying to picture his best friend in frilly lace underwear. He had to stop that quickly because damn, that was a surprisingly hot image.   
He looked towards Sherlock, blushing lightly, expecting the other to be laughing, or making some smart remark, or just doing something. But the man just sad there, blushing red as a cherry, his arms crossed over his lap, and a small crease of a frown between his gorgeous green eyes.   
John decided to go for broke.  
'Are you.. You're not actually wearing... Are you?'  
Sherlock shook his head and tried to think of any possible way out of this situation that would save a smidgen of his dignity. He failed. He decided to simply go with the plan, as John had most likely just imagined him in lace underwear, and was clearly turned on: dilated pupils, blushed cheeks, the position of his hands over his crotch, and the tapping of his right leg against the marble floor.   
Sherlock began talking, if only to stop thinking about John for a second.   
'I, um... well yes.'  
Johns face moulded itself into one of further shock, if that were possible. He normally would have laughed, but the image was still fresh in his head, and his mind definitely wasn't thinking straight.   
'Before you laugh or anything, i have a reason, which is probably going to make you laugh anyway, but i was trying to tell you something and you know i'm not particularly good with words when it comes to feelings and i know you like cases so i thought when better to tell you than on a case?'  
John was stumped. Was Sherlock rambling? The concise man who had an answer for anything and everything was flustered and unable to form comprehensible sentences in his usual articulate way.  
It was the one thing that made John answer seriously, otherwise, he would have brushed his own feelings off as a joke, as they both tended to do.   
'Look, I won't laugh. Promise. Just, what's going on, since when have you been one to ramble?'  
Sherlock looked at John when he spoke, he'd read that what you were saying came off as more sincere if you did that.  
'Ok, I wanted to tell you something, but since neither of us tend to enjoy more conventional occasions, i thought i'd do this in an unconventional way.'  
John made a move to interrupt him and tell the detective to bloody get on with it. But, of course, Sherlock stopped him before he could get so much as a word out.   
'Let me finish, please.'  
The use of manners encourage John to comply, yet also get harder in his jeans. The doctor stayed quiet.   
'I like you a lot. I have done since we met, i think. And i wanted to tell you in a special way.'  
As dumbfounded as John was by this, his next question wasn't about the main subject at hand.   
'And you chose lace underwear.... Why?'  
'I went shopping, and the label for, um, these,' he gestured casually downwards. 'Said, 'surprise someone special' so i got them. And i was going to surprise you, but i didn't know we were coming here, so that's basically it.'

 

\-----------------------------------

 

The clients representative walked down the carpeted corridor next to Mycroft Holmes in silence. It wasn't that things were uncomfortable between the two, he was just anxious to meet this famous detective, and get everything back in order.   
It was hard for him to believe this was likely when he entered the room Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were 'waiting' in.   
Sherlock lay on his back, his legs hitched up around John hips. The two were kissing heatedly, hands gripped in short grey hair, or playing with the pink lace that was low on Sherlocks hips.   
Neither noticed the extra presence in the room, both too caught up in eachother to be aware of any outside attention.   
Mycroft Holmes wanted to change that.   
'Sherlock!'  
John pulled back sharply, hair messy, lips red, and hands quivering with need. Sherlock just laid back, panting slightly, and turned to look at his brother with a face of utter annoyance. John sat up, and threw Sherlocks sheet back over him, if only to cover the detectives now obvious boner.   
'I think it might be time you left.'  
The two complied with ease, giggling softly as they left. Sherlock stopped by the coffee table, and grabbed the crystal ashtray as they exited.


	3. 46) i got you, it's okay. it's okay NYGMOBBLEPOT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this ones a bit sad sorry but hope you like it :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was requested by @scarletnygma on instagram. i think she wanted the ending to be happy but it's not sorry.

Oswald was hurting. He sat quietly on his bed, clutching his broke hand. He'd fucked up. He'd finally, finally, plucked up the courage to tell Ed, and the latter had brushed him off. Os had left quietly, not wanting to push Ed away further, but had punched a wall on the way home, and without his best friend there, was simply collapsed on the bed.  
The light was seeping weakly through the curtains, and Oswald realised a good few hours must have passed. He checked his clock: 7:47am. This was the time Ed would normally awake him with a cup of strong coffee and the days agenda.  
A wave of regret, and love, and sadness hit Oswald with an overwhelming force and he doubled over with a painful sob. Tears spilled and spilled until the man was unable to breathe. It was as though a million different thoughts and feelings had hit him all at once; he longed for Ed, even if not in a romantic way, he just wanted his friend back. He wanted to hear those little chuckles, the frequent riddles, and that knowing little smirk meant just for Oswald. After his mother had died, Ed had always been there for him, and understood him. It crushed Oswald to know that Ed didn't, and would never feel the same way.  
Oswald Cobblepot was still weeping softly when he heard the door knob rattle. He knew, on instinct, that he should probably protect himself, but his broken mind couldn't form logical decisions, so he stayed sitting, crying silently, and still clutching his hand.  
'Ozzie?'  
A shudder went through the shorter man at the familiar deep voice.  
'Ed?' Oswalds voice broke as he uttered the simple word, looking up, but not daring to catch Eds eye.  
Noticing the tears on Oswalds face, Ed swore quietly before rushing towards the bed and wrapping his arms around the other man. Oswald stayed tense, shoulders hunched and brows furrowed. Right now, he doubted he'd ever feel ok again.  
'Oswald, I'm so sorry.'  
The shorter man let out a confused sigh, and relaxed slightly into Eds shoulder. He still felt uncomfortable showing any emotion around the riddler, but knew that the latter already understood his mental state.  
'I got you, it's okay. It's okay.' Oswald nodded numbly. After months and months of longing, Oswald now simply felt nothing. He felt no spark as Eds hands protectively stroked his bare arms and inspected his own broken hand. Oswald couldn't forgive Ed for saying those things to him: 'freak', 'nobody', 'i could never love you'. So he just stayed still, emotionless and empty and silent, until Ed finally left.


	4. 22) you have a photo of me? on your fridge? STUCKY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> basically a different take on the apartment scene with steve and bucky from cacw. enjoy:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was requested by @stuckyphan on instagram

Steve stepped cautiously around the dismal mattress on the damp floor. The tiny apartment could only be described in one word: sad. Walls were covered in mould, half eaten meals sat rejected on the surprisingly clean counter, frayed and faded photos lay on most surfaces: the small desk, the dusty floor, the nearly empty fridge.   
The photos covered a range of times and events, from a world fair in the forties, to newspaper clippings from less than a week ago. The photos all had one thing in common: him.   
Instinctually, the captain raised this shield as a figure crept through the window. The weapon was quickly lowered again when Steve realised who the intruder was. He treated his life long best friend as a wounded animal, speaking softly as so not to disturb him. Conversation soon began to flow more naturally, and little jokes and nervous giggles began to arise.   
Bucky was still cautious, and winced at any contact, any discussion that hit too close to home. Which is probably why he shut off completely when Steve pointed out the photos Bucky had laying around that he'd hoped Steve wouldn't have seen - or at least have had the courtesy not to point them out.   
'You have a picture of me? On your fridge?'  
Having had little to no social interaction over the past 70 years, Bucky was unsure how to answer, but this was Steve, his Steve, and he thought he owed it to him to at least be honest.   
'I, well, I gotta be honest with ya Stevie.'   
Where the captains Brookyln accent had faded somewhat over his time, Buckys still held strong. A wave of nostalgia flooded through Steve at the sound of his old nickname, and he suddenly found it harder to remember that he had to be careful with Bucky.  
'I wanna remember. Ev'rythin. But, specially you. I don't wanna not remember anymore. I can't.'  
Steve was touched. He took the photo from the fridge: a still from a video took during their Howling Commando days. They'd been midway through planning a mission to infiltrate the next Hydra base in the Ural Mountains, when Bucky had made some kind of innuendo and the pair had giggled uncontrollably like a couple of toddlers. The moment had been caught on camera and, as Steve understood it, presented in the Smithsonian museum.   
This particular photo was the one that had helped Bucky the most. He would spend evenings looking at it, staring until his eyes began to glaze over. Sometimes he cried, sometimes he laughed, sometimes he simply stared, too deep in thought to show an outside emotion.   
'I know.' Steve's voice had dropped an octave, thick with tears that threatened to spill.   
'Just, can ya, stay, maybe? Tonight?'   
And that's how Steve spent the night on a cheap mattress, his arms wrapped around the chest of the infamous winter soldier. He lay awake, listening to Buckys heavy breathing, mixed with the rumbling of cars on the street below the dingy flat. He was happier than he'd been in 75 years.


	5. 11) i loved you BUCKYNAT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i haven't posted in a while. this ones for @twdavengers on instagram :)

Natasha held her breath as she crouched under the desk. It was a shoddy hiding place and she knew it, but it was the best there was in the dark room - and she had a feeling the man chasing after didn't truly mean her any harm.   
She door slammed open and the ex assassin tensed all over. The familiar whirring of the metal arm cane accompanied with a nostalgic feeling of love and a new, foreign feeling of fear.   
Her assailant was near silent as he crossed the room - a sign of his many years spent as an assassin, spent training with her. Natasha thought back to those days. It had begun with fleeting glances from across the room, and escalated to a secret love affair held during their sessions alone together. He had saved her. Without the distraction of him, his presence, she doubted she would have been able to survive the daily torture that came with training in the red room.   
She looked up just in time to see her makeshift shelter thrown across the room, replaced by an angry face, eyes smudged with black, a dark mask hiding his mouth. Natasha was up in an instant, and before he could defend himself, the winter soldier had already taken an elbow to the face, and multiple kicks to the stomach. Then he was yanking her hair back brutally, before efficiently pinning her to the wall opposite with a metal hand around her throat.   
She grabbed uselessly at the hand in an attempt to release the pressure, but he grasped her wrists and held them above her head with his flesh hand.   
Legs flailing uselessly, the ginger assassin assessed her options. Go for the offensive and try to get away? No, he was too strong. Giving up entirely was not an option - she was Natasha Romanoff, and she was not going down without a fight, especially not to her James.   
'You could at least recognise me.' Her voice was strained and hoarse, but the words still changed something in the soldiers eyes.   
'You know me. You're James Buchanan Barnes, you trained with me in the Red Room, you've got to remember come on!'   
The soldier made no move to release his grip around her throat, but he also didn't do anything to further the attack.   
So Natasha kept going. She listed every memory she could, her voice now painfully sore, but James' grip was relaxing, and Natasha had to fight to keep the tears pricking in her eyes from falling.   
'I loved you James.'   
And his eyes softened, his grip relaxing entirely for a split second before he stood up straight. He removed the mask and whispered in a voice that has clearly not been used in years. A voice that was broken and emotional and tired.   
'Natalia?'


End file.
